


Would You Marry Me?

by Frazzemrat1



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fake Marriage, Friends to Lovers, Marriage of Convenience, becomes real marriage, the burn must have been so slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-03-17 10:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frazzemrat1/pseuds/Frazzemrat1
Summary: Post Inquisition and Tresspasser but before The Knight Errant (which I highly recommend), Viscount Varric Tethras has returned to Kirkwall and has nearly completed the rebuilding of the city.  As a result, Bran and the counsel has been begun pestering the Viscount to get married and produce an heir.  Hawke returns from Weishupt, and a plan is hatched.  What could possibly happen??This does not take place in the same universe as Renegades, Mages and Rogues.  This has been simmering around in the back of my head, and I've allowed it to bubble down to the bits.  Rating for future chapters.





	1. Chapter 1.

 

  Viscount Tethras sat at his stone desk, watching as his seneschal fed him page after page from a stack of documents.  The man barely paused for breath as he went over the next day's agenda and the most important documents that would need to be read and signed.  With the size of the stack, the dwarf wasn't sure how he was going to have time for his audiences and meetings.  A headache was starting to form between his eyes.

  Varric cleared his throat and interrupted the intoning of the man beside his desk, "Bran, You've read these.  Thoughts?" 

  "Well, My Lord, these are trade arrangements,"  he placed on more page on the small stack in front of Varric.  "These are petitions to purchase tracts of land and other properties,"  another, smaller, stack was placed.  "And these are proposals."  This appeared to be the largest piece of the stack.

  "Proposals of what?" Varric eyed the stack of papers that was fully half of the original pile. 

  "Contract proposals."  The man’s brogue rumbled.  

  Varric turned his eyes to the redhead beside him.  The dwarf gave the man a glare that, once upon a time, would have stilled a carta member’s hand and made him think of how he’d lived his life.  Bran merely gave him an unimpressed look in return.  “What kind of contracts, Bran.  Its not like I’ve never seen a contract before.    

  “They’re betrothal contracts, sir.  Many of the aristocracy, your council included, think its time for you to consider a bride, beget heirs.”

  “Great Ancestors, why?”  The thought sent shivers down his spine.  It was his mother all over again, but this time it was half the city.

  “You have held this office for several years now, it is high time...”

  “Not you too?!”

  “...that you saw to finding a bride and reproducing.  The dwarven fertility rate not with standing.  We don’t need to find ourselves in the same mess we were in after the Arishok killed Viscount Dumar.  I don’t know that Kirkwall can handle another power struggle.  And your council is going to tell you the same thing.”

  Varric frowned, before he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to eleviate the pressure.  He picked up his glass of whiskey and took a pull.

  “You’re not going to talk your way out of this one.  The city needs this.” Bran sternly lectured.

  “I know.  I know!  I just... wasn’t expecting this.”  Varric looked up at the raised eyebrow.  “I wasn’t expecting this **yet** , Bran.  I thought they’d leave me alone for a few more years.  Everything is still chaotic, even if it’s just below the surface.  The Inquisition...”

  “The Inquisition released you, and you’ve taken up a different post.  Varric, the time for your fun is over.”

  “Maker’s balls, you make me sound like I’m an old man.”

  “You aren’t getting younger.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.”  He let out a sigh.  “I’ll look at them tomorrow.”  ‘If I find time.’ He added to himself.

  “Very good.  You have an eight o’clock with your council.  I will see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Bran.”  Varric grumbled.  As the door clicked shut he knocked back the last of the whiskey in his glass and sank back in his chair.  This is just what he needed.  Not that he minded the idea, but what would he do with a wife?  He certainly didn’t have the time for one.  He barely had enough time to manage the rebuilding of the city, and the complaints, let alone his spy network and work for Nightengale.  He was able to at least keep the Merchant’s Guild at bay with city business.  He felt bad enough that his correspondence with Hawke was usually later than he’d like, only because he had to fit it in right before bed.  He snorted to himself, that is; if he had time before he dropped like shot druffalo.

  Pulling himself out of his chair, Varric leaned over and blew out the candelabra on his desk.  He grabbed Bianca from beneath his desk, caressing the warm stock of her before sliding her into her holster across his back.  Some habits died hard, and being far from his beloved crossbow was one of them.  Varric grabbed the night candle at the door before letting himself out of his office and walking down the hall to his private apartments.  

  The guard outside his door snapped to attention as he approached, and saluted.  Varric returned the salute sarcastically, “Matthau, havn’t I told you that you can relax around me?  Especially when its just the two of us?”

  “Yes, Sir!  Captian Aveline caught me not snapping to when you came home two nights past.  She reamed me good.  Told me if she caught me again, I’d be on night time dock patrol.”

  Varric sighed, “Well, alright then.”  He let himself in and went straight to his bed chamber.  Not that he knew what his front rooms looked like in daylight.  Or any light.  He never spent enough waking time in these rooms to know.  He placed Bianca on her rack before stripping so he could slip into his bath; the benefits of power.  He noticed the letter from Hawke on his private desk, where he’d left it the night before.  Walking naked to the table, he grabbed it, ripped it open and began reading as he slid into the the hot water with a sigh.

  It was the usual stuff.  Wardens were annoying, Wardens were pigheaded.  She’d gotten them to heed her warnings about Corypheus, but that had been about it.  It was her closure that really caught his attention. 

 

     _I’m done with this place, Varric.  Time to head home.  I’m leaving in the morning, so should arrive on the heels of this letter.  Hopefully you’ve had the mansion cleaned and aired out, otherwise I’ll go to your old place in the Hanged Man._

_All my Love_

_Your Friend_

_Marianne Hawke_

 

  


	2. Chapter 2

  Varric growled to himself as he tried to pretend he wasn't storming out of the counsel chamber.  He'd wanted to talk about the trade agreements, how some of them overlapped with the petitions for property, and what that could do to the economy of the city.  Some of them were good; a couple, Varric suspected, hid ulterior motives.  But what did the counsel want to talk about?  The betrothal proposals.  Proposals that Varric himself hadn't even gotten around to reading yet.  Granted he'd placed firmly at the bottom of the pile (and all future piles) of documents; but they wanted to discuss names and propositions before he'd even gone over it himself!  Of course, several of the names that had been bandied about the room had connections directly and indirectly to members of the counsel.  All of the morning had been wasted discussing names, families and contracts.  At least a few names had been eliminated immediately, either because Varric happened to know the family or the girl, or Aveline or Bran did.

  "You know, you're going to have to make a decision on this."  Aveline walked beside him.  She'd exited the chamber with him, at least it wasn't Bran.  

  "You would think they'd want me to be happy about this."

  "They probably did think you'd be happy about this.  Most men don't go to the marriage mart half so informed.  Besides, you're the most eligible bachelor in the Free Marches, besides Sebastian."  Aveline couldn't keep herself from snorting on the last bit.  

  "The prized stallion, you mean.  Just parade the mares in front of me, see which one catches my eye."  He said sarcastically, ignoring a gasp as they passed a courtier.  

  "I wouldn't go about referring to prospective brides as 'mares', Varric." Aveline warned.  "You might piss off somebody who will tell her uncle or aunt.  Then you'll have a hell of a time trying to make decisions in that chamber." 

  "And how many are from the Merchant's Guild?  I got out of that business by the skin of my teeth when my mother tried to get me to marry."

  "By trying to marry Bianca.  I've heard the story from Hawke.  That got you a great deal too."

  "Strung along, you mean.  She used me for my connections and for the occasional tumble, even after she married what's-his-name."  Varric scrubbed his face with his hand in frustration.  "At least that's done and history."  

  Aveline strode beside him until they reached the top of the stairs in the atrium of the keep.  She looked down at her long time friend with sympathetic eyes.  "I know you don't want to do this, Varric.  You probably thought you'd be a bachelor for life, after Bianca.  Go cool down, and then you do need to read through some of those proposals."  

  Varric sighed in exasperation, not caring who heard the Viscount sounding so disgruntled.  At least they'd given him 'the day off', with the expectation that he would be going over what amounted to a pile of resumes.  "Have you heard from Hawke?"

  "She should be here by now.  Nobody is at her manor, I'd know about it by now.  And I don't believe anybody has taken up residence in your rooms at the Hanged Man.  Why you still pay for those..."

  "So I have a place to escape if I need to.  Its not like you don't know I'd be there.  Not like I can hide from my Captain of the Guard." Varric gave her a sly look.  He had slipped his guards on a couple of occasions.  She really needed to hire more rogue types.

  "Those guards are there for your protection, Varric.  You should..."

  "I know, I know!" Varric chuckled, feeling a little better for having ribbed Aveline.  He walked away, waving at her as he did. 

  He strode out the door, nodding at the two guards who fell in behind him. They were always there, but he was allowed to have them stay some ten paces behind him, unless he was in a crowd.  This was partially so they wouldn't lose him, and partially so they could protect him.  Sometimes it was helpful, the two hulking brutes cutting a swath through people so he could easily walk along.  Other times he wanted to move through a crowd the way he used to.  Information could come from just listening, plus it was easier for him to hear the rumors first hand, than to have to rely on interpretations of them from his spy network.  It was also easier to meet with his spies when he was incognito, than with the hulking brutes.  

  He had to admit, they had saved his ass a time or two.  A few months after he'd been voted in as Viscount, and there was still a lot of unrest, he'd been attacked by somebody who had blamed all his problems on Hawke, and by extension; Varric.  The man had blamed them for his fall into poverty, having been one of the few who'd actually traded with the Qunari when they'd been there, and had invested much of his sales to the endeavor.  When the Qunari had attacked, they hadn't really cared if they had gone after somebody who traded with them or not, and when they were driven off the merchant's investment had gone with them.  Varric had been in the market, trying to blend in, when somebody had grabbed him and hauled him into an alley with a knife poking him in the back.  The brutes had seen it happen and come around the corner before Varric had even scuffed a shoe, disabling and arresting the man before he could blink.  

  Varric continued to muse to himself as he walked down the stairs that led to Lowtown.  He hardly noticed the extra shadow that had fallen in beside him until his guard and called out to them.  Turning quickly, he palmed a concealed knife to his hand and placed at the belly of the human beside him.  Too slow to react, he'd realized, as their fingers grasped his wrist and twisted it enough to deaden his fingers and he dropped the knife.  They wrapped their other arm around his shoulders and pulled him in, almost as if a hug.  He started to push them away, first embarrassed to find where his face had landed and that the person who had grabbed him was without a doubt female; second because she'd gotten the drop on him.  

  "Release the Viscount at once!" Brute One said, with the distinct sound of blades being drawn.

  Pealing laughter filled Varric's ears as he stopped struggling in this woman's embrace and pulled her in tight.  "Hawke!  You pain in the ass!  You about gave the three of us heart attacks."  He pushed her away finally, gesturing at his guards, who watched with uncertainty.  "Aveline will probably still give these two a run around the training yards when she gets wind of this!"

  "They deserve it, and you too, Varric.  I've been following you since you left the keep.  You've gotten soft, and lazy."

  "Lazy am I?"  Varric growled, but blushed.  He had gotten soft, and too used to having somebody else watch for trouble.  

  Hawke crossed her arms under her breasts and gave him a look.  Varric looked in return.  It had been several years since he'd seen her, not since the almost disaster at Adamant Fortress.  She didn't look like she'd gained any weight, even after being at Weishupt for years and not in hiding.  A new scar slid from her hairline to her left eyebrow, but other than that, she looked remarkably like the 'same old Hawke'.  She still had the same shining eyes, filled with merriment, the same arrogant stance.  He watched as she made the same twist in her lips that could never hide her amusement.  Varric felt his heart clench a little, as he realized how long he'd been looking at those lips.  He was getting soft, if he couldn't keep his wicked grace face on.  

  "C'mon Hawke, lets get a drink." He put his arm around her waist and pulled her along as she let out a chuckle.  Yep, same old Hawke.

  Hawke allowed herself to be pulled along, not that she would have resisted.  Varric had new frown lines around his mouth and his forehead, and dark circles under his eyes.  Aside from the slight paunch around his middle, he looked worse than he did when she'd seen him at Skyhold.  Being Viscount was wearing her friend down, and the stress was getting to him.  Her arm rested across the width of his shoulders, between his neck and Bianca's stock, and she could feel the tenseness in his shoulders.  As they walked, some of that tension eased, but much of it was still there.  She worried for him now, far more than she ever did during their escapades.

  When they reached the Hanged Man, Varric opened the door for Hawke, bowing with a flourish to let her in.  She smirked as she gave an exaggerated curtsy and they both walked in together.  As they headed for the stairs Varric called out, "The usual Corff!" and then to his guards, "You two can stay down there and have a drink."

  Both guards sighed, and Hawke knew he'd tried to ditch them several times, as they followed the pair up the stairs and positioned themselves on either side of his door.  Smirking, Hawke watched him give a strange look at the lit hearth before he looked at her.  "Yes, I was here earlier.  Hoped to find you here."

  "They made me move to the keep.  I still have this place because it wouldn't feel right if I didn't."  

  "The desk is gone."

  "Told you they made me move.  I wasn't going to make it easy on them."  He chuckled.  "Felt bad for the men they sent to move it though.  Ended up making them send for a mage to make the damn thing light enough to be carried out."

  "They let you have one?"  Hawke turned surprised eyes on him.

  "I'm the Viscount, and its not the same Kirkwall you remember.  Bethany, Maxwell and I work better than Orsino, Meredith and Dumar ever did."

  "Maxwell, huh?  New Knight Commander, I presume."

  "He came with a fine recommendation from Her Holiness." Varric smiled.  Cassandra had become Divine Victoria, following the fall of Corypheus, and while they did still have a friendly antagonism, she did her best by her friends.

  "Her Holiness, huh?  Not surprised, somehow."

  "Yea, surprised us all.  Should have seen her face when they voted her in!"  Varric dove into the tale as Hawke listened.  During the story drinks and food arrived.  The two continued back and forth telling each other stories from their separation, filling in details that had been missing from letters.  As the night wound on, the two settled onto the only couch in front of the fire, a bottle on the floor.  By this time Varric was grumbling as he vented about dealing with the counsel.

  "And, that isn't even the worst part, Hawke!"  Varric growled.  Hawke turned Varric as he paused to sip his Antivan Brandy.  Before he could begin speaking again, she dug her thumbs into his shoulders.  "Maker's hairy ass crack, you can stop that never." he groaned.

  Hawke chuckled as she continued to massage his shoulders, working out knots she was sure he didn't even know he had.  "What is the worst part?"

  "Hmm?  What?  Oh...  Well, they want me to get married." 

  Hawke pushed through the massage, not stopping dead like she wanted to, in surprise.  "Whatever for?" she choked out.  She felt her heart squeeze a little at the idea of Varric married... well, to somebody not her.  She'd loved him for a long time.  A long time, she admitted to herself, but he had always been oblivious.

  "They say... Ancestors, right there uuuugh.  They say they want me to get married and get her pregnant so there won't be a power vacuum like there was when Dumar died."

  "That's a very valid point, Varric."

  "I know.  I just didn't think I'd have to get married until, I don't know, I found somebody who would put up with me."

  "That's not too hard."

  "Easy for you to say, you know my quirks.  Besides, when am I supposed to find time for wife?  I'm working from dawn to sometimes the third night bell."

  "You need a partner more than you need a wife."

  "Its not like I can pass too much of this off.  I can delegate, sure, but the things that need the Viscount's direct attention?"  

  "Like I said, a partner.  Somebody you can trust."  A thought wiggled into her mind.  "Somebody to help with the work load, and watch your back."

  "Not many people I trust at my back, Hawke.  The only ones in this town I trust at my back are you and Aveline, and maybe whoever she sends to guard me.  Right now, you can have as much of my back as you want."  Varric hissed as she worked on another knot.  He hoped she didn't think he sounded the way he sounded in his own ears, which was whiney and petulant.

  "Marry me?"  Hawke blurted and blushed.  

  "What?!" Varric sounded very startled.

  "I'm aristocracy through my mother, I'm young enough to make the counsel happy without it being scandalous.  You know I'd have your back, and be your partner.  Plus I'm the Champion."  Hawke rushed out, trying not to sound hopeful.

  "Hawke, what about you?  I mean, I don't want you to lose your freedom to chose a guy..."

  "What guy?  I haven't found anybody yet would put up with me, let alone understand me."  She said aloud, throwing his words back at him, and added to herself, 'besides you.'

  Varric was silent, aside from occasional grunts and barely concealed moans from the massage, as he thought about what she said.  As arranged marriages went, he couldn't see how he could do better.  They were best friends who knew each other's weaknesses and strengths probably better than their own.  They respected each other more than any other and loved each other in their own way.  He knew he could trust her to do what he couldn't or wouldn't be able to.  He thought all that, but as he thought in such business like terms, his heart was fluttering.  He was going to marry Marianne Hawke.  It wasn't what his heart wanted, he wanted to hear her say she loved him, but it would do for now.  Then a thought hit him.

  "Uh, Hawke, this sounds great and all, perfect even... but what about kids?"

  "Oh, uh..."  Hawke blushed deeply, glad that Varric couldn't see her face.  "We can figure that part out later."

  "Ok." 

  "Ok?"

  "Yea, lets get married."  Varric sounded like he was choking on it, even as she grinned behind him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a day! I'm spoiling you! Or this story really needs to get out. 
> 
> If anybody is interested in being my editor, I'm sure to appreciate it. I'm writing this and trying to edit as it comes out, which means that yes... this is mostly a first draft. If you are interested, give me a message.


	3. Chapter 3.

  Varric walked into is office, followed by Bran who was lecturing him (of course) about not doing any work last night.  He'd ended up staying the night at the Hanged Man, sleeping in his bed with Hawke while the two guards made pallets on his floor.  The guards had given him looks in the morning, but it wasn't the first time he and Hawke had slept together, it apparently wasn't going to be the last.  They'd been passing out together for years, it had become almost assumed that the two would be in the same bed.  Nothing, other than the occasional cuddle, ever happened between them.  It had been awkward for Varric when he'd wake up first to find her draped across his body back in the day and his body recognizing that an attractive woman was pressed against him and rising to the occasion.  He'd had gotten very good at slipping out of Hawke's arms and the bed without her knowing how much he wanted her.  Usually, he'd gotten breakfast and waited for her to get out of his bed; today he'd rounded up the guards and left.  As strange as it felt to be slipping silently out of his own rooms, he felt wonderful.  It was the best and the longest he'd slept in ages.

  As Bran continued to speak about what his responsibilities were last night, Varric picked up the stack of betrothal contracts and dumped them in the trash, causing Bran to sputter.  "What is the meaning...?  You need to chose a bride, sir!  You can't just..."

  "I can.  I did.  The problem has been solved."

  "How?!"

  "I received a proposition that I found acceptable."

  "Just like that.  You found somebody to marry that the council would find acceptable?"

  "I did.  Now, these trade agreements..."

  "Who?"

  "What?  Well, I think this one is from a Count in Antiva.  I can confirm through Ruffles, but this contract should be completely legitimate."

  "Who did you find?"

  Varric paused, curling the corner of his mouth that faced away from Bran.  When he turned his face to the taller man, he didn't realize that his eyes shown with happiness and the smirk was still there.  "Lady Marianne Hawke of House Amell, Champion of Kirkwall."  He emphasized the last.  Hawke may have been a fugitive of the Chantry, but she wasn't one anymore, and wouldn't be treated like one.

  As Bran groaned at the name, Varric's smirk turned to a full grin.  "Do we need the council's approval for the betrothal?"

  "No," Bran sighed.  "She is a Lady from a fine family, even if her father was of a questionable background.  I will just have to put together a formal announcement.  Just keep that uncle of her's out of the treasury.  The building preferably."

  "Oh, of course, Bran.  You don't have to worry about that."  Varric felt the weight of it lift off his chest.  He wasn't going to have to argue with them about this, Hawke had been right.  "Now, back to this trade agreement.  This one seems legitimate, but I don't think this merchant has such an innocent agenda as making coin."  He pulled over another contract to go over with Bran.

 

~*~

 

    Hawke woke to find herself alone in Varric's bed and rooms.  By the length of the shadows coming through the windows, she surmised that it must be mid morning.  Deciding she'd spent enough time in bed, although she hadn't realized how exhausted she'd been from her travels, she got up and dressed herself.  She replaced her daggers on her hips and her bow and quiver on her back before throwing her cloak over her arm.  It should be warm enough now she wouldn't need it. 

  She paused when she hit the street, took a deep breath and smiled.  Some merchant around the corner was calling out to passers by, trying to be louder than the merchant in the stall beside him.  Another person cried out as they'd discovered some urchin had cut their purse.  The air smelled of salt, rotting food, people and other things best left unmentioned and unidentified.  This was Kirkwall, and it was home.  She may not have spent all her life here, and not even half her adult life after the Chantry catastrophe, but she had fought for it, bled for it, and damn near died for it.  This was home, and Marianne Hawke was back.

  Purposefully, she turned and strode towards the stairs leading to Hightown.  Her own manor had been cleaned and aired, as she'd asked of Varric.  She'd left her Mabari there, and while she had no fear that he'd let himself out into the back garden, she was concerned with the state of her blankets and sheets.  That dog appreciated a nice mattress as much as she did, but he didn't usually bathe before he crawled onto one.  She discretely glanced to the side and behind, periodically, watching her back as she went along.  This was the habit that Varric apparently had lost, and would need to regain.  She'd been incredibly surprised to have gotten the drop on him, as he was usually so observant of his surroundings.  She paused at a stall selling bread and cheese, purchased some, and then purchased some meat from another stall, planning on making herself some sandwiches when she got home.  With a smirk and without a pause she walked right past Aveline's guards and up to her own door.  The men watched her, one warily, the other startled, as she turned the key in her door and let herself in.  It wouldn't be long before she got a visit from the Guard Captain, now. 

  Twenty minutes later, there was a pounding at the door.  Hawke had put the food in the kitchen, and had gone up to find her dog snoring on her bed.  Some guard dog he was.  Now that the bed was cleaned up, she was ready for the visitor pounding on her door.  As she hit the bottom stair at a trot, the lock clicked and the door swung open.  The fiery, red headed Guard Captain charged into the Amell estate.

  "Hawke?  HAWKE!?  Where the hell are you?!"  She yelled out before noticing the younger woman running towards her.  They both opened their arms as they pulled each other in for hugs.  Laughing and crying together, their words tumbled over each other as they asked and responded to questions in rapid fire.  Finally, the two women pulled apart and Hawke pulled Aveline towards her dining table, where she'd laid out the cut bread, slices of meat and cheese, and a bottle of wine she found hidden in the back of the cellar. 

  "Hawke, you know I can't drink on duty." 

  "Please, you told Donnic where you are, right?  Then your off duty.  You weren't really thinking you'd show up here and then go back to work?"  Hawke grinned as her oldest friend bit her lip in indecision before nodding and taking a glass.

 

~*~

 

  That was where Varric and Donnic found them hours later.  Two empty bottles of wine were discarded on the table, the remnants still being sipped from wine glasses and both ladies giggling like girls.  The men exchanged looks before moving forward to gather their women.  That was when Varric was noticed by the giant dog.  Before he could blink, the dwarf found himself on his back with the beast above him, lapping at his face and wiggling in excitement.

  "Wolf!  Get off!  I'm excited to see you too, but get off!"  Varric growled as he pushed in vain against the slobber beast.  "Hawke, help!!"  He yelled, only to hear the women laugh louder.  Thankfully, Donnic came to his rescue, pulling the mabari off of him.  Varric wiped his face with his hands and looked up at Hawke in time to have a towel thrown at him, which he made short work of using. 

  "Alright, you two ready to go get something to eat?  Not at the Hanged Man." Varric suggested.

  "Why not the Hanged Man?" Hawke wanted to know, before she tossed back the last of her wine.

  "Too easy to find.  Besides, we have a dinner invitation."

  Hawke looked down at her current best (and cleanest) set of clothing, which included her light leather armor.  "Are you sure..."

  "You're dressed fine.  Our hostess won't mind."

  Once the ladies cleaned up the table a little, they were ready to go.  It didn't take Hawke long to figure out that they were headed to the Gallows and allowed her excitement to pull her into the lead of the group's fast walk.  They had just reached the courtyard of the Gallows when Bethany's voice rang out.

  "Sister!"  The mage was charging them, holding up the hem of her mage robes.  Behind her a Templar walked at a more sedate pace.  The two women met in a tearful embrace, while the three humans, one dwarf and one dog looked on.  The guests were then brought up to the courtyard outside the offices of the Knight Commander and Grand Enchanter.  There a meal had been set up for the group, including a bowl of chopped beef for Wolf.  The night was spent talking and catching up, and meeting for the first time.  Varric sat back and marveled at how quickly Hawke could put somebody at ease, as she was doing with the latest Knight Commander; Maxwell. 

  Watching her, knowing she was there had done wonders for putting his heart at ease.  Tension from worrying about her, that Varric hadn't even realized was there, had evaporated.  Either that, or it was her massage.  He was going to have to beg another one soon.  He was also going to have to find a betrothal ring.  He glanced at Aveline's finger to observe her emerald.  Donnic had chosen a nice dark green stone which sat flat against the metal of the ring, making it easier to pull her gauntlets on and off.  Varric considered, he thought that perhaps Hawke would prefer a sapphire, and as a Viscountess wouldn't need such a low setting.  He thought she would like low enough to be out of the way, even if it was high enough to be noticed.  He was going to have to slip away and find a suitable jeweler.  Maybe she should go with him.  He wondered how this was supposed to work, and wondered if it mattered if he and Hawke even had to play by those rules still.  He suppressed the sigh he wanted to let out.

  Dinner was over much sooner than it seemed possible.  Everybody said their good byes, and the quartette, plus one dog, walked back to the keep.  Varric kept a firm arm around Hawke's waist and kept her from going back to her manor.  He knew it was empty, and wanted her to stay with him.  Especially since she'd gotten herself past the happy buzz she'd started earlier with Aveline.  He was going to have to tell her tomorrow that she had appointments anyway, with the tailor, for the appropriate wardrobe.  He knew she'd be like him, and just pick out richer versions of what they already wore.  Once her first set of clothing was in, they'd probably have to make the formal announcement to the town. 

  When they got back to the Viscount's apartments, Varric stripped Hawke from her armor and left her in her linen pants and shirt before he got her tucked into his bed.   Turning then to his private desk, Varric thought about some of the things he'd come up with that he needed to take care of, and a couple of the things Bran had already told him about.  He wrote some notes to himself about things that needed to be take care of the next day and sighed.  Formal announcement planning, wedding planning, receptions.  He wondered if he could elope with Hawke.  Varric chuckled to himself.  Elope for an arranged marriage.  Who ever heard of such a thing...  But he made note about it anyway, but this was written in the coterie's secret code, just to make sure nobody in the Keep would get wind of it.  He blew out the candles in the room and slipped into his pajama pants.


	4. Chapter 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is our first NSFW chapter!

  Hawke woke with a very quick start as she heard the knock at her door, promptly followed by the sound of the door open.  Before anybody could react, Hawke was across the room with a dagger, ready to aim for Bran's throat.  She skidded to a halt in front of the Seneschal, recognizing him before she did any harm. 

  "Mornin' Bran.  How's it going?" she asked the sputtering man as she turned and walked back to the bed to sheath her dagger.  Once her back was turned her face had split into a grin and a blush that Varric was finding endearing and difficult not to mirror.

  "Go ahead and meet me in the hallway, Bran.  Or down in the office.  I'll be along in a moment."  Varric told the man.  Once the sputtering man left, both dwarf and human burst into snickering laughter.  Finally settling down, they got dressed. 

  "What are your plans for the day, Varric?"  Hawke asked, as she looked at her rumpled clothing with distaste.  "I may be going down to the market for new clothing, after I see what's serviceable at the manor."

  "Actually, you have an appointment in these rooms with a tailor.  Bran said if we insist on going through with this betrothal then you must be 'properly attired'.  Which reminds me; I'm supposed to get you a ring.  Do you want to come with me?  Or should I pick it out by myself?  I don't know what I'm supposed to do." 

  "I'm sure whatever you chose will be fine with me.  Just don't get something too flashy, please?  or bulky?"  Hawke looked down at herself again, "What kind of clothing am I supposed to get?  Do I **have** to get dresses and court clothes?"

  Varric chuckled at the look on Hawke's face, which was as petulant as a toddler.  If she would just push that bottom lip out a little more.  "You don't have to get anything you don't want to, although I suggest you pick out at least a couple formal outfits.  They made me do it." 

  Varric had finished pulling on his boots while he'd spoken, and reached for his sash.  Hawke walked over to Varric, as he started to wind it around himself.  She plucked the fabric from his fingers and finished it for him. 

 "I can do that."  He said as he watched Hawke as she tucked the sash the way he always did before bringing his belt on over it.  She was so close to him, bent slightly at the waist to buckle his belt.  It was such an intimate moment, he wasn't sure if she was aware of what she was doing to him, as he struggled to keep his breathing even.  She'd done this before, long ago, and each time he'd been caught by surprise and had to struggle to keep himself from kissing her.  When she turned to get his duster, he almost reached out for her, but instead brought his hands up to gather his hair into its usual half tail.  He tied it off with the leather thong on the table and took the duster from her fingers and swung it on. 

  Hawke watched as he quickly grabbed his crossbow and started for the door to the room.  The look he'd shot her had been heated, and now he'd acted like he'd been burned.  Perhaps he had, considering he'd heard about what had happened between him and the not-crossbow Bianca with the red lyrium during the Inquisition.  "Do you know when that tailor will be here?  Do I have time for a bath?" 

  Varric waved at her over his shoulder, "By all means."  he said, and disappeared out the door.  Hawke chuckled to herself and walked over to the tub to see a bell cord hanging near it.  She pulled, and waited near the bed.  Shortly a bevy of servants appeared with steaming buckets ready to fill the tub.  One showed her the plug in the bottom so she didn't need them to drain it. 

  Once the men with buckets had left a serving girl appeared with a large fluffy towel, robe and some sweet smelling toiletries.  "M'Lord said you might like these."

  Grateful that Varric thought to offer something besides his soaps and shampoos, she selected a scent and moved to start stripping out of her clothes, and slid into the tub.  She was surprised, once she'd settled, to find the girl still there.  "Can I...  um, help you?"

  "Actually, I'm here to help you, M'Lady."  The girl blushed.

  "Help me... with what?"

  "Bathe, mum."

  "Oh.  Um..."  Now Hawke was blushing.  "I think I can manage on my own.  Just let me know when that tailor is supposed to be here." 

  The girl nodded and left the towel in easy reach before leaving the room.  Hawke sighed and sunk lower into the tub.  How did Varric get used to that M'Lord and Lady crap?  She mulled over it while she soaked a bit, before finally scrubbing herself from top to bottom.  She was rinsing the last of the hair conditioner when she heard a knock at the door.

  "One moment!"

  "M'lady, the tailor is here!"

  "Tell'em I'll be out in a minute!"

  "Yes mum!"

  Hawke quickly finished her bath, toweled herself dry before contemplating her dirty clothing.  Finally, she put on her smalls and breast band before just slipping into the robe.  She grabbed her dirty things and went out into the main room.  The serving girl was standing right outside her door.  "Can you take these to be cleaned, please......  "

  "Liza, M'lady.  Yes M'lady."

  "Thank you, Liza... and please, you can bring back the 'M'lady' crap.  Hawke is fine."

  The girl chuckled, "Master Tethras said you'd say that, Mistress Hawke."  She chuckled more when Hawke blew out a loud sigh at this new title.

  "My Lady, allow me to introduce myself.  I am Nigel Du Lac.  I am here to outfit you in the finest silks, the warmest velvets and the loveliest and most vibrant of colors.  My Lady, you're..."

  "Let me stop you right there, Nigel."  Hawke interrupted, before this fop laid it on too thick.  "I'm looking for comfort over style, breathability and movement over constriction, and the bare minimum of whatever is in fashion.  I'm not looking to break the coffers, so the silks and velvets can be saved for only the formal wear.  Linen is fine for every day wear and I would prefer most of my colors to be muted.  And every day wear will be trousers, not dresses.  Am I clear?"

  The tailor sputtered, opening and closing his mouth without saying anything, reminding Hawke of a gasping fish.  "I.. You...  "

  "Yes, well.  The formal wear... you may use the simplest of what's in fashion for the formal wear, I will wear corsets but only if you can ensure I'll breathe in them, and I'll need under clothes."

  "Yes, M'lady."  The tailor breathed out. 

  Liza, who had been watching the exchange with a hand over her mouth, obviously hiding her grinning mouth but not the mirth in her eyes.  "You are just like Master Tethras."  she whispered loudly.

 

~*~

 

  What seemed like hours later, Hawke was sitting sideways in a comfortable arm chair by the window with a cup of tea.  She'd felt like she'd been poked and prodded, and she'd only tried on a few items.  Nigel Du Lac, a trumped up name if she ever heard one, had sent one of his assistants for sample trousers and blouses while they looked at dress designs for the few she'd order.  Once the samples had arrived, she'd been fitted, pinned and left with several sets of under clothes, and Du Lac had included some unmentionables that would have been best included in a new bride's boudoir.  He insisted that he send her a set of clothes that afternoon, so there she sat, in her robe and some slinky thing.  She felt more like she should be at the Rose, than reclining in the Viscount's sitting room.

  On one hand, she thought to herself, she'd be ready if Varric were to come in professing his undying love and lust.  On the other, the poor bastard would probably come in and see her, and they'd both be beyond mortified.  She chuckled to herself, they'd slept together, but not _slept_ together.  She thought she could brave the embarrassment if she was sure he was interested.  There was one morning, years ago, he'd woken holding her back to his front and his morning wood rhythmically grinding against her.  In so many ways she'd been disappointed when he'd realized who he was holding and scrambled out of bed.  All it had taken was one moan from her to have him wake up enough to realize what he was doing.

  With a smirk to herself, Hawke got up and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.  The thought of that morning, feeling Varric's hands roam her body, his hard cock against her backside, was making her wet.  she remembered how quickly he'd dressed and left down to the bar, and how frantically she'd fingered herself to at least lessen the ache between her legs.

  Hawke placed herself on the bed and opened her robe, exposing her lace and silk clad body.  Slowly she ran her finger tips down her chest until she reached her breasts, lifting them in her hands before lightly pinching both nipples at the same time.  Spikes of pleasure and excitement lance down to her groin, pulling a soft, breathy moan from her lips.  Leaning back on the pillows she continued to play with her breasts, alternately squeezing them and pinching her nipples to various degrees of pain and delight.  Finally she slide one hand down her stomach and let her fingers disappear inside her smalls while the other continued to play with her chest.  She thought about if, that morning, Varric had continued what he'd started in his sleep.  If his hand had drifted into her smalls and he'd found how wet she was, what he would have done.  

  She imagined Varric dipping his fingers, as she did now, parting her lips and finding her slick heat.  She rubbed her clit in a slow circle before passing it and dipping two fingers inside her channel.  She imagined at this moment that Varric would have pulled her to her back, stripped her of her smalls and put that wonderful mouth to work on her; nipping and sucking and licking until he'd coaxed her body to fulfillment.  She started rubbing stronger circles around her clit, more pressure and speed, as she softly moaned.  She didn't realize that his name had passed her lips, when she suddenly felt her body tighten.  She let out a soft sigh and left her hand in position, twitching it occasionally to send little shocks of pleasure through herself.  Finally, Hawke got up, pulling her scant clothing back into place.  Her breathing returned to normal and she got up, trying to decide what to do next, while she waited for her clothing.

  What seemed like hours later, and probably had been, a knock sounded on the hallway door, and Hawke heard Liza's voice call out.  "I have an outfit for you, Mistress."

  Hawke found herself running out of the bedroom, happy to be able to get dressed and leave the room finally.  She quickly dressed herself in a flowing light cream tunic that clung to her in the right places, and trousers that gripped her ass, and relaxed over her thighs.  She pulled a belt on over the tunic to gather the fabric at her waist before pulling on a new pair of knee high soft soled boots.  A jacket completed the outfit, the leather soft as butter and just heavy enough to keep off the night time chill.

  "This is perfect!" Hawke murmured, looking down at herself.  "Now, lets go find that Viscount.  I bet its about time for dinner."

  "It is, Mistress.  He asks that when you are finished getting dressed that you join him in his office.  I think he has a meal being prepared for the two of you."

  "Oh, perfect!"  Hawke bounced up and trotted to the bedroom to secret some of her knives into the outfit; she never went anywhere unarmed, before turning and leaving the room.

 

~*~

 

  Varric sat at the table that had been placed in his office near his desk, sipping his glass if wine.  He was desperately trying not to think about what he'd walked into this afternoon.  He had gone down to his rooms to find out if Hawke had found anything she liked and give her the ring he'd found that he thought she'd like.  Nobody had been in the front rooms, so, thinking Hawke might be napping after the ordeal with the tailor, he'd quietly closed the door before going to the bedroom door.  Before he'd touched the knob he heard a moan.  Quietly he'd opened the door to see if Hawke was alright and not hurt.  What he'd seen, what he'd heard... Hell, what he'd smelled made him hard all over again.  He'd peaked just to make sure she hadn't hurt herself, that's what he kept telling himself.  She could have slipped in the tub, stubbed a toe, anything.  Instead, he'd found Hawke, in all her glory, damn near naked on his bed and pleasuring herself.  He'd watched in shock for a moment, completely rooted to the spot and unable to move.  Some sane part of his brain had screamed to him then, pushing him back out of the room.  He couldn't get out of the apartments fast enough.  

  He thanked Andraste, the Maker, hell; the Stone and any other godlike being listening that he preferred longer tunics, which hid how hard he was.  He'd almost run to his office, where he'd locked himself in.  He'd sat at his desk before releasing his cock and began furiously pumping his fist over himself as he thought about how much he'd rather be with Hawke right now driving himself into her.  He'd cum quickly, and he'd had the presence of mind to catch it in a rag instead of letting it go all over his desk.  

  Varric looked down at the ring in his hand.  How was this going to work, he wondered to himself?  He was setting himself up for torture, that's what this was going to do.  He wanted her in the worst way, wasn't dwarf enough to tell her, and now he was going to marry her.  His heart was pleased, but he worried for his sanity.  He was apparently going to spend a lot of time jacking off in his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient waiting for this chapter. I know I busted the first couple out pretty quickly, but then I wasn't sure how I was going to do this chapter, and then kids got sick. Life happens. We're all better now. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!


	6. Chapter 6

I haven't given up on this yet, My Lovelies! I need to do a rewrite, as I'm not sure, or satisfied, where this was going. I tend to write a story as I go along, let the characters write it, however this one was getting away with me (yes only a few chapters in) and I had no idea where this was going. That is to say, I knew what the end game was... but I didn't know how to get there. I didn't know how to torture the characters, other than with themselves. LOL As Varric says, you love a character, you give them conflict and see what happens, but I promise... no heroic deaths. LOL

Keep watching! This one isn't dead yet! It just needs to go back into the oven to roast a bit more.


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